


Show Me, Tell Me, Kiss Me, Frell Me

by Cordelia_Sun



Series: Personal Indulgences [4]
Category: Farscape
Genre: Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-13 03:48:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3366620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cordelia_Sun/pseuds/Cordelia_Sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John insists that Aeryn tell him what she got up to while in his body and,  as usual,  quickly finds himself out of his depth and in need of a slick plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Secret Soft Places

**Author's Note:**

> The obligatory Post-Out Of Their Minds PWP, which however it plays out is totally canon...totally :D
> 
> Smuttiest damn thing I ever wrote *shame smiley*

“It's fine John, really,” Aeryn said with a smirk and a shake of the head, “you were in my shoes...I was in your pants.”

She walked away with an easy swagger as John smiled down at the floor. At least she was joking with him again after yesterday’s fiasco in the central chamber. That was something. He supposed spending half a da—wait, what did she just say?

Aeryn had paused in the corridor facing him and as he jerked up his head he took in her expression; highly amused, challenging...inviting?

Yeah.

Aeryn spun on her heels and pelted off down the corridor at a dead run and, without thinking, John jumped up and gave chase. There was no way he would keep up; he could run just as fast as Aeryn, but she weaved around the corners at speeds that would send him crashing painfully into the wall. It was, therefore, a complete surprise when he managed to grab hold of her just a few steps from his quarters.

She definitely let him catch her.

They fell together against the curved wall in a tangle of limbs and he grabbed her around the waist—her butt pressed up against him—while she struggled with little wriggling movements that had nothing to do with trying to get free.

“What did you do?” he asked, his voice low and husky. She squirmed round until she faced him and he loomed over her, hands placed against the wall either side of her shoulders, and tried hard to look serious and commanding; she wasn’t buying it.

“Why should I tell you?” she said, looking up with innocent eyes and teeth grazing the soft flesh of her bottom lip.

“It's only fair. You know exactly what I did,” he said and shrugged, “not that I did much.”

“Only because you were caught,” she mocked, “I dread to think what would have happened if you had been given more time and a free hand.”

“Oh, I could do a lot with a free hand,” he whispered and tapped the end of her nose with his finger, “spill it Aeryn, what did you do?”

“Not telling,” she said, her tone petulant and teasing; challenging him to do something about it.

John shook his head and, with a breathy laugh, took up the challenge. He pinned her to the wall with his body and tucked his knee between hers to keep her off-balance. Then he slipped his hand under the hem of her leather vest, across the bare flesh of her waist, until his fingers found ribs and tickled. Aeryn shrieked and squirmed and grabbed at his chest, trying to push him away for real this time, but he’d found a sweet spot where she was very, very ticklish and her usual ability to fling him across a room fled her for the moment.

“I'm not going to stop until you promise to tell me,” he said in a sing-song voice.

“Fine!” she managed to gasp through choking breaths and laughter, “Fine, you win.”

He stilled his fingers, kept them flat against her skin, and braced himself for the inevitable beating. When it didn't come he pulled back to look down into her smiling face.

“Well?”

Aeryn shook her head, grabbed his arm and led him the last few steps to his quarters.

“I think,” she said in a thoughtful voice, “that I can do better than tell you.”

“Hmm?” he raised an interested brow and wondered if this was going where he thought it was. God he hoped so.

“I think I should show you.”

“That...” he said with a gulp, “would certainly clear up any unanswered questions.”

“Yes, I think so too.” She pulled him into his quarters, waved the door control shut and shoved him against the grille with rather more force than was absolutely necessary. She stood before him with her hands on her hips and a calculating expression. John wondered if he should start to worry.

“Look, Aer—,”

She cut him off with a finger to his lips, which she traced slowly down over his chest and his belly before coming to rest over the waistband of his pants. She slid her other hand around the back of his neck, brushing the tips of her fingers through his hair, and pulled him into a hard kiss. Her tongue explored his mouth and he responded with enthusiasm.

“You didn't do that in my body,” he said when they broke apart.

“No, but I thought about it,” she said and snaked a hand down to the increasingly uncomfortable bulge in his pants and squeezed gently, “and do you know it had very much the same effect?”

“You think about that?” John asked, genuinely curious. She was pretty much his go to gal for mental stimulus, when needed, but it had never occurred to him that she might do the same with him. It made him feel curiously exposed.

Aeryn shook her head and smiled in refusal to be drawn on the topic; instead she took a small step back and put her hands on her hips. She regarded him with a severe, and slightly scary, Peacekeeper commando expression.

“OK, unfasten your pants.” She ordered.

Johns brows flew up in surprise, “Me?”

“Yes, you. Now.”

John's felt his cheeks flush hot, but he did as she said and began to unfasten his leather pants. He kept his eyes locked with Aeryn’s as little electric flutters of self-consciousness coursed through his belly.

“Well done,” she said like she was praising a recruit, “now slip your hand in.”

He licked his lips and slid his hand down the front of his pants and was gratified to see Aeryn’s gaze drop to watch; her lips parted with suddenly arrested interest. His grazed the coarse hair at the base of his belly until the tips of his fingers touched the firm flesh of his cock.

“Take it out,” Aeryn whispered, all trace of the serious soldier now gone, and she leaned forward and placed her hands on his hips.

He took his time, despite his own aching need for freedom, and took great enjoyment from the stress that his slow, deliberate extraction seemed to cause Aeryn. She watched with rapt and breathless attention and her fingers dug into his flesh.

“Now what?” he asked in a quiet voice when she didn't speak.

Aeryn placed her hand over his and began to guide it along the full length of his shaft. She helped him establish a slow rhythm before pulling her hand away and John continued the stroke in way that she'd showed him. With his free hand he brushed a loose coil of hair behind her ear and she glanced up at the touch with an unexpected shy smile and crimson cheeks.

“Put your fingers in your mouth,” she said softly, “and make them very wet.”

That was almost too much; given how frustrated and touch starved he'd been lately. He barely managed to reign in the whiplash through his brain and the powerful throb under his hand. Letting nothing more than a low groan escape from his throat he reached up and pushed three of his fingers into his mouth and coated them liberally with saliva. Aeryn watched him for a while before she took his hand and pulled it back to his cock. He resumed his earlier stroke—modified slightly to a more familiar rhythm—the wetness on his fingers producing some astonishing images in his mind; mostly to do with Aeryn and other sources of moisture.

“And you called me mentally damaged.” He grinned at her and leaned forward to plant a soft kiss on her forehead.

Aeryn shrugged, “you wanted to know what I did,” she said, “this is it.”

“This all?” he asked and Aeryn nodded.

“You didn't...ah...finish?”

She shook her head.

“So,” he asked, insanely curious, “what did you think?”

“Hmm?” She jerked up her head to look at his face, “well, I think that it's a shame I didn't have more time.”

John choked back a laugh and checked her expression; no, she definitely wasn’t joking.

“Anyway, now you know. Are you satisfied?”

“Not exactly!”

“Too bad,” she said brightly and stepped away; a mischievous grin plastered across her face, “I'll be going then.”

John groaned as she reached for the door control and reached out to grab her wrist; he gently pulled her back to him.

“Oh no, no, no,“ he pleaded, “you can't leave me like this. It's cruel!”

“Why not? That was the agreement.” She shot him an innocent look.

“Then we need a new agreement,” he said, pulling her in close, one arm around her waist and his hand on her wrist. He pulled her hand to his erection and wrapped her cool fingers around it. She grinned and let him guide her, the way he had let her guide him, and snuggled into this chest positioning herself so that they could both see.

“What did you have in mind,” she asked in a low voice as she slowly stroked him.

“Um.” He hadn’t actually thought that far ahead.

“You have no idea do you!” Aeryn laughed at him.

“My brain cells are all kinda pre-occupied right now.”

She smirked let go of him and he moaned in disappointment. He tried to pull her back, but she brushed him away and stood back with a thoughtful expression. After a few moments he sighed and, assuming that the game was over, self-consciously tucked himself away. He folded his arms and frowned at her; pondering all the unfairness of life in the uncharted territories.

“Did you mean what you said…about the free hand?” she asked, suddenly serious, her fingers drummed a nervous tattoo on her thigh.

“Um, probably.” He admitted.

“OK.” She nodded and took a deep breath, studied him carefully and said, “you have it.”

“What?”

“A free hand.” She shook back her head sending her pony tail swinging, “do what you want.”

“Aeryn, I don—”

“No, I mean it,” she cut him off, “we can do it your way. Human sex.”

He had a moment of dizzying confusion; Human sex? What exactly did she think Human sex involved? It was pretty much the same as the Peacekeeper kind. On the other hand, maybe…maybe he could see possibilities. Maybe life wasn’t so unfair after all.

He reached out and pulled her into his arms and she came with only the slightest resistance.

“So,” he whispered into her ear, “I can do what I want?”

“Yes.” She treated him to a sardonic lift of her brows and twisted her hand in the fabric of his t-shirt, “impress me…if you can.”

Damn it. What he wanted to do was to strip her naked and have her right there against the door. He was horny as hell and, after monens of frustrated self-abuse, what he wanted was an effective, functional peacekeeper fuck. He figured that wasn’t going to wash. It was unbelievable; he’d been handed the keys to a Ferrari and could only think about going out for MacDonald's

And it dawned on him that he was representing his entire species here and, damn, that’s a lot of pressure.

Human sex. Basically the same as the Peacekeeper kind; when compared to a one night stand or an inadvisable hook-up at a kegger. He’d had both, and they were fun for what they were, but it wasn’t what he wanted with Aeryn. Not really. He wasn’t sure he knew how to show her what he wanted.

Slow John, he told himself, just take it slow.

He turned her around and pressed her up against the door. Aeryn reached back and clutched the grille, squaring her shoulders as she tipped back her head to look up at him; her gaze proud, confident and so damn sexy.

He stroked her cheek softly with his knuckles and she rolled her head catlike at his touch, her dark eyes briefly fluttered closed. When he pressed his thumb to her lips they parted eagerly and she drew him in grazing the skin with her teeth. He traced a line down her neck until it rested lightly above the swell of her breast.

John fingered the zipper of her leather vest, taking a beat to appreciate the moment, and began to slowly tug it down. He’d done this in her body, gleefully playing like a teenage boy, but now he could watch her face and the slow exposure of her flawless skin and it was oh so much better. Aeryn shrugged the vest off her shoulders, let it fall to the floor, and leaned back again against the door grille.

He ran his hand flat against the silken skin between her breasts; felt the thump of her heartbeat and the gentle warmth of her skin. It had taken a long time to find and fully appreciate that warmth, but it was definitely there; light, like sun-warmed stone.

His comparative heat must feel like flame to her.

Sinking to his knees, he began to unfasten the buckles of her long boots and then strap of her pistol holster; he dropped them to the floor with heavy thumps. Stockings and stilettos they were not.

He felt a salacious grin spread across his face as he imagined her dressed up in a short skirt and heels; it was a breathtaking, if unlikely, visual. He filed that thought away for later examination and concentrated instead on the breathtaking visual he already had in front of him. Still grinning he tugged down her pants assisted by Aeryn, who eagerly wriggled her way out of the tight leather.

She stood naked but for a pair of snug black shorts, which were tugged down so low they exposed the exquisite, delicate curve of her mound. He knelt before her and gazed up in a state of awed supplication. She looked glorious. Her body, like her soul, was a chorus of contrasts; hard and soft, dark and light. Her planes and curves were firm and taut, but with secret soft places and he felt so privileged every time she let him glimpse them.

She reached out and pushed her fingers into his hair, pulling him close, and he pressed his lips against her belly relishing her scent and her incredible soft skin. He ran his hand up the back of her calf; brushing his fingers along the delicate skin behind her knee, eliciting an almost imperceptible shiver.

His mind flashed with sudden inspiration; he wanted to find all those soft places. Know every inch of her.

He stood up, brushing against her bare skin, and ran his hand over the swell of her thigh, the curve of her hip and kissed her soft lips. Aeryn seemed to melt into him and her hands circled round to grasp possessively at his ass as they kissed; pulling him hard against her. He pulled back, wanting to keep the upper hand; she could so easily overwhelm him.

“I know what I want.”

“Oh?” she tilted her head at him, eyes crinkled in amusement and began to pull at his t-shirt. He took hold of her wrists and pushed her hands away, twisting them gently behind her back. She raised her brows; he was swimming in dangerous waters here, but she was going with it…for now.

“You’re not getting undressed?” she asked.

“No.” he spoke against the skin of her neck and felt her tremble. He wasn’t going to tell her he reckoned he had about a minute of self-control in him once he got his pants off, “you got a problem with that?”

She rolled her hips against him and skimmed her leg up his thigh generating an intriguing swish as she brushed against the soft leather, “fine with me.”

He walked her towards his bed, sat her down and climbed up behind her. He reached down by the floor, and after some rooting around, his fingers found what they were looking for.

The contents of the small bottle he pulled up contained the pinnacle of a long period of lonely experimentation. Needs must an all that. He’d tried a few things; lutra was thick and sticky and not pleasant at all; trellan oil almost blew the top of his head off, which was an experience, but not really what he was looking for. This stuff was a winner; an almond sweet slinky oil, slow to absorb and with a very pleasing tendency to bead in warm droplets on the skin. Perfect, for all practical purposes.

“What’s that?” Aeryn asked looking around with a puzzled frown and when she recognised the bottle she gave him a gleeful leer, “why do you have that under your bed?”

“Never you mind.” John laughed, feeling a blush spread across his cheeks; he brazened it out and pulled her around to face him. Aeryn looked up at him expectant and smirking at him and his bottle, while he kicked of his boots and settled down on the bed. He pulled her legs over his so they sat facing each other.

He tipped a drop of oil into his hands and warmed it in his palms. “Give me your hand.”

She held out her hand and he spread the oil over her palm and her long elegant fingers before he began to explore the rest of her; gently caressing her milky skin and allowing his fingers to trace over every millimetre of flesh. Aeryn fixed him with a look of bemused scepticism, which he carefully ignored focusing instead on watching her reactions.

He was not disappointed. She rewarded him with a slight flutter of the eyelids as he brushed against the inside of her wrist and an adorable little squeal as his fingers grazed behind her ear. Through the slow and gentle touch of his hands, as the oil rendered her skin smooth and slick and soft, Aeryn’s wary scepticism began to fall away; replaced by a soft and slightly dazed smile. The line traced along her collar-bone elicited a deep shudder and she squirmed under his hands as he ran them over the delicate flesh of her waist. It was an amazing thing to watch.

Aeryn complied happily when he pushed her onto her back; she settled back, propping her arms behind her head, looking comfortable and content. John clambered up onto his knees and paused to admire the delicate sheen on her stretched out figure. He applied more oil to his hands and smoothed it over her legs, running his hands in long strokes over their toned and elegant length. There were far fewer exciting discoveries here, but he was not disappointed by the enthusiastic reaction he got when he grazed his fingers across the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

He placed his hand flat on her belly and swept it down between her legs, over her shorts, and his heart thumped as he felt profuse wetness diffused through the fabric. He paused for a moment, processing the discovery, and then began to rub her slowly; kneading gently with the heel of his hand. Aeryn curled her hips up to meet him and moaned softly.

He tucked under the fabric of her shorts and his fingers, slick with mingled oil and juices, caressed the delicate flesh beneath. Aeryn hummed in appreciation.

“So you didn’t do this?” she asked, almost too quiet to hear.

“No,” he said, “you threatened to break my legs, remember.”

“It would have been worth it.”

He could believe that.

He pulled away, hooked his thumbs into the waistband of the shorts, and pulled them off in a long, deft movement as Aeryn raised her legs and rolled her hips to assist.

John knelt back, stripped of his t-shirt and took the opportunity to free his erection from his pants. He was not surprised when he fingers touched slick droplets of pre-cum moistening the tip. John spread the moisture over his cock and watched as Aeryn pulled up her knees and spread her legs in a slow and stunningly elegant movement.

He leaned forward propping himself up on one elbow and, with his free hand, slipped his fingers inside her, palm up.

She was warm and slick and snug around his fingers. He explored inside her, touching the soft inner flesh the same way he had caressed the rest of her body; watching for her reactions. He grinned when a firm press upwards against a deep soft place made her body roll and arch involuntarily; he rode out his own flood of lust and awe at how incredibly responsive she was. He positioned himself to pin her down a little and continued to apply fluttering pressure on just that spot as she squirmed and took deep gasping breaths. He paused briefly, let her settle, and then dipped his head down and pressed his tongue softly against the tender flesh of her pussy.

The noise she made in response was extraordinary.

He began to lick her in long, slow, ice-cream strokes; mouth flooding with an intoxicating mixture of saliva, faintly sweet oil and her own honeydew melon juices. She writhed beneath him and raked her fingers through his hair, groaning as he swirled his tongue against her clit. He felt the rolling tension through her body and alternated lick, suck and swirl to accommodate her every swell and ebb. When her cries began to come deep and sustained he paused to kiss her thighs, smiling against her skin, and let her calm a little before resuming his attentions. He brought her to the brink three times before she let out a low growl and grasped him firmly, refusing to let him pull away.

Fair enough.

He pressed his thumb against her clit; alternating the slow stroke between his thumb and his tongue; increasing the pressure until she let out a long, aching yowl accompanying a powerful shudder that he could see roll through her entire body. He felt the convulsion under his tongue.

He pulled away, let her ride out the intensity of her orgasm, but kept his fingers pushed deep inside her. When she stilled, loose and languid on the bed, he pressed soft kisses against her pussy and each one won him a delightful shocky shudder. Eventually she batted him away and pressed her thighs together to deny him access.

He knelt back as Aeryn pulled herself up on her hands and knees and crawled over to him with a predatory smile. She pounced on him like a wildcat and started to strip off his pants; why did it always end up with him being manhandled? This wasn’t the deal.

He let her finish and grabbed her around the waist; sweeping her back onto the bed. He nuzzled into her neck nipping at the skin as she squirmed under him; her movements a torment to the erection pressed against her belly. John grimaced and, determined to win back some authority, took her hands and pinned them above her head.

“Don’t move.” he ordered and pulled back, kneeling between her spread thighs, rooting for the bottle among the sheets; when he found it he poured a long glug of oil into his hand. Aeryn watched him warm it through with patient amusement; her arms still stretched up where he’d pinned them. He leaned over her and spread the oil slowly over her breasts; creating a slick and slippery glaze. Aeryn’s lazy smile signaled her approval.

He settled himself above her and rested the head of his cock against her labia, holding back, wanting to savour the moment. Propping himself on his elbow he used his other hand to stroke and massage her breasts. Her erect nipples brushed tantalisingly against the palm of his hand and he pinched them gently pulling and sliding the slick oil over the dark flesh. He held his fingers just above her skin and watched the oil run and bead on their tips until it formed a single, warm droplet, which fell onto the tip of her nipple as he pushed himself inside her.

She received him with a happy sigh and he didn’t move for a long moment; she was so warm and soft and wet. He never wanted to leave. She smiled up at him; draping her arms lazily around his neck.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asked.

She shook her head; refusing the complement. Some soft places were out of bounds. He reached up, cupped her cheek and brushed his thumb across her lips, “you are beautiful.”

“You talk too much,” she said and kissed him, a distraction, but he reveled in the softness of her lips and decided not to push.

He began to fuck her slowly; luxuriating in the slick, snug softness of her pussy, complemented by the slippery surface of her skin as their bodies moved together in perfectly synchronised coupling. He looked deep into her dark eyes, dilated and glistening, and she held his gaze; totally with him in the moment. Like everything with Aeryn it was intense and unbelievable and kinda messy, but they fit together so well.

He pushed himself up and began to increase the pace and the force as Aeryn wrapped her long strong legs around him; digging her heels into his butt. She cried out at the apex of each thrust and he joined her in chorus with his own animal groans.

He started to feel the familiar welling of pressure deep within; the tingling electric pulses through every muscle; the unbearable agony of trying to hold back. He gratefully let it happen; taking one last look down into Aeryn’s beautiful face. All he wanted to do was hold on to her. Grab her and hold on for dear life, because he was pretty sure he would never feel this alive again.

She looked back at him, deep and serious, and he felt her muscles tighten in around him in controlled, mind-melting, pulses that shattered any illusions he had that she had ever ceded control to him. She gave him a salacious smile as the stars exploded behind his eyes and he surrendered to her with an unholy roar.

He collapsed over her, wracked with aching relief, and gulping for air; ears ringing and vision hazy. He opened his mouth to speak, but could only produced incoherent noise. Aeryn probably wouldn't notice any difference.

“So,” she said between her own deep ragged breaths, “that’s human sex, is it?”

John grinned and kissed her deep and slow as they began to regain some element of calm.

“It’s very messy,” she said, running a hand over her chest.

“Fun though.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, “it is.”

 

 


	2. Paradigm Paralysis

Aeryn lay back, closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. She wasn't exactly relaxed, but she did feel a kind of deep relief; a sense of having finally reached a desperate and frustrating itch that she had been trying, fruitlessly, to scratch for a long time.

Well, yeah.

She heard John's barefoot steps approach as he returned from the bathroom and he climbed onto the bed beside her. He lay on his side giving them enough room to share the narrow bed without touching; but he was so close Aeryn could feel the heat that radiated from his body.

Eyes still shut, she ran the pads of her fingers in a slow sweep over her chest and between her breasts. Elsewhere the oil had almost fully absorbed, but that last slathering—what _had_ he been thinking?—left a slippery coating over her torso that would take arns to absorb if she simply left it. She considered looking for something to wipe it away, but knew the bed covering was strewn on the floor somewhere and she had no desire to get up and fetch it.

Three words welled up inside her, but Aeryn firmly pressed her lips together against them; not ready to speak yet. She wanted to stretch out this moment just a little longer.

She opened her eyes and shifted on the bed, turning to face John, but as she moved something dug painfully into her hip. She reached down for the offending object and her fingers wrapped around something cold and round; the oil bottle. Pulling it up, and turning it thoughtfully in her hand, she recognised it as a cooking oil they had bought monens ago. Everyone hated it because it made their food taste strange and sweet and when it disappeared Aeryn assumed it had been thrown away.

Now she knew.

“You don’t have much left,” she said handing it to John with a smirk; there had been a lot more oil in the store than would fit in that little bottle, “I hope I haven’t deprived you.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” he replied and Aeryn watched with some amusement as an attractive pink hue spread across his cheeks and chest.

“I don’t know _what_ you were thinking,” she said, going back to sweep a finger across her slippery skin.

“You put me on the spot,” he said with a slight desperate tone in his voice. He flipped the bottle over his shoulder on to the floor, “I panicked. You know what happens when I panic.”

Aeryn let a bark of laughter escape her lips; yes she knew.

To be fair she didn’t know what she'd been thinking either. Making that ridiculous offer. When she told him to do want he wanted she had expected a good hard frell against the cell door. She would have been satisfied with that, but she should have known that she wouldn’t get something so simple from this man.

Everything John Crichton did was complicated and messy.

In an effort to dissipate some of the oil she began to use the palms of her hands to spread the excess over her body. She swept it down her arms and massaged it into her shoulders with deep muscle loosening strokes. She ran them over her belly and thighs and her fingers searched for places that John had missed; where the oil could be easily absorbed. Her search was futile. It seemed he had touched her everywhere.

“Ha-hmmm.”

Aeryn froze at the noise and glanced up to find John watching her with his hand to his mouth. Her eyes swept downward; he wasn’t entirely aroused, but he was definitely interested. Aeryn smiled and continued her work. Moving slower. Taking longer and more graceful sweeping strokes as John’s eyes followed her hands. His breath hitched as she slipped a hand between her thighs, where her fingers encountered the slick reminder of their recreation.

As her fingers probed between her legs, and her other hand caressed her body, Aeryn thought about Human sex; or at least sex as it related to this Human. The oil…the oil wasn’t important. It was a stupid, spur of the moment, answer to her stupid, spur of the moment, challenge. That wasn’t human; that was just him. Most likely.

But in his own messy frellwit way he had being trying to show her something.

Aeryn was pretty sure she didn’t get it.

And she thought that maybe she wanted to try.

“So,” she said, “is it my turn now?”

“What?” he asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

“To do what I want.”

He grinned and buried his face in his hand with an exhaled laugh.

“Sure,” he said through his fingers, “why not?”

He let her push him onto his back and she pulled herself up and straddled his waist. She draped herself lazily over him and dropped wet, biting kisses across his chest. She nipped her way up his neck and to his mouth, where she pressed her lips against his. He ran his hands along the back of her thighs before tracing light shivering lines up her back as they kissed. She moaned soft into his mouth; his kisses always weakened her. That couldn’t be right.

Aeryn pulled away and sat up straight, wriggled to get comfortable, and reached back to pull out her already loose hair tie. Hair cascaded over her shoulders and she enjoyed the soft brush against her skin as it fell. She splayed out her hands on his torso and let her eyes drink him in.

“Checking out the lay of the land?” John said, shifting uncomfortably under her appraising gaze, “I suppose that's only fair.”

Aeryn pressed the tip of her finger to his lips, “talking is against the rules.”

“Rules? Nobody told me ‘bout no stinkin’ rules,” he drawled with a smirk and a lick of his lips.

“Well, I'm telling you now,” she tossed her hair back, “you talk too much. It's my turn and I insist you be quiet.”

“I'll do my very best, ma'am.” He gave her a lazy salute.

Sitting back, Aeryn sucked in her bottom lip thoughtfully and wondered what to do next. Follow his lead?

“Give me your hand,” she said.

John complied and silently held up his palm to her. Aeryn took it and studied it carefully, peering at the pads and creases, using her fingers to trace the lines that criss-crossed his palm. She felt the soft skin of the palm and traced around the callouses that were beginning to beginning to form on the heel of his thumb and the edge of his index finger. Similar callouses covered her own pistol hand. Aeryn recalled when he first arrived on Moya; defenseless and naked. Literally. Now, like her, he never went anywhere without a weapon.

“You gonna tell my fortune?”

John’s rumbling drawl snapped Aeryn back from her thoughts. She dropped his hand with a theatrical sigh and a warning look. He clamped his lips together and gave her a look of absolute contrition. When she was satisfied he wasn't going to start wittering again she settled back to her appraisal.

She ran her hands over his broad chest; allowing her fingers to entwine into the soft hair that covered it. The hair shocked her the first time she'd seen it from behind the visor of her pilot combat suit. She'd been even more shocked that her initial response was intrigue, rather than revulsion. Carrier born males and females alike were engineered to have very little body hair. It was simply good hygiene. Conscripts and volunteers tended to keep the aesthetic; choosing to blend in as much as possible with their carrier-bred colleagues.

Aeryn had never recreated with man so hairy; not just his chest but his arms, his legs…elsewhere. Even his face sprouted a layer of thick, bristly fuzz after just a single day without shaving. She'd imagined it must be like being covered in carpet, but when she was in his body it felt normal; kind of warm and nice under his thick fingers.

She didn't feel bad about capitalising on her time his body. He started it; long before today. All the time during their first cycle on Moya he had found excuses to touch her; always oh-so-accidentally bumping into her or falling on her. She had used the opportunity to steal little fleeting touches for herself.

She leaned down and pressed her face into his chest; breathing in his scent and scraping her teeth over his skin. She savoured the feel of him. Peacekeeper recreation did not value sensual touch; it was not part of recreation, which focused on the destination and never the journey. Yet their first time together, on the fake Earth, Aeryn had almost melted with the pleasure of finally properly touching him. She wondered if he realised this. She hoped not. This fetish that she had developed worried her immensely.

“You OK there?” asked John, who had been relaxing back on the bed with his arms behind his head, allowing her to do as she pleased. And all she'd pleased to do was run her hands over him and nuzzle into his chest.

“I'm just fine,” she said, “do you know you have a lot more hair than a Sebacean male?”

“I'm not exactly familiar with Sebacean males,” he said with a breathy laugh.

“I like it.” She pushed her fingers into his chest hair and tugged hard; drawing out a delightful yelp, "gives me something to hang on to.”

“You're twisted," he said.

“Be quiet.”

Aeryn shuffled down until she knelt nestled between his thighs and she brushed her hands up them; raked her short nails over his skin and through the thick thatch of hair at his crotch. She ran the palm of her hand over the warm flesh of his firming cock and wrapped her fingers around it; stroking it gently with long sweeping movements until it stood proud before her.

“This is very similar,” she said, allowing her fingers to intricately examine the flesh in the same way she had explored his hand. She stroked a finger lightly around the head, “except for here. Here Sebacean males have a hood that covers the head of the penis.”

“Oh, um yeah." he shifted nervously, "Humans have that too. It was…ah…removed. When I was a baby.”

“Really, why?” Aeryn paused and sat up a little; fascinated and mystified.

“I don’t know,” he said after a short pause, “I didn’t get a say in it.”

“Very odd. Cutting bits off babies. If you don’t want it why not simply alter the genetic code so that you are born without it?”

“We don't know how to do that.” He shrugged.

“You are a very, very strange species.”

“Why are we talking about this? I thought there was no talking. This is very distracting.”

“I said you can't speak; not unless you're spoken too. I can talk as much as I like,” she said, “but I’ll stop if you insist.”

Aeryn flashed him a wide grin, pushed her tongue against her bottom lip and rolled it in a long flowing ripple. A little thrill trilled through her belly as his mouth dropped open and his eyes widened in response. She bent forward and took him in her mouth.

He was hot and thick and solid between her lips. She gently mouthed the head of his cock and used her tongue to explore the smooth curving surface of the head and the deep ridge that surrounded it. She pressed the flat of her tongue underneath the glans and softly rippled it across the ridged skin as John moaned and shifted under her.

She wrapped her lips over her teeth and, assisted by her hands and fingers, began to work him with long luxurious, gently sucking, strokes.

Aeryn barely remembered the partner that taught her to do this; she had been young—still in prowler attack school—he had been older and more experienced and she’d been keen to learn. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t recall his face or his name or how she had felt about their encounters. None of that mattered to a Peacekeeper, but it was a point of good manners to be a skilled and effective recreation partner.

Here and now it mattered that John liked it, and she wanted to please him as much as he had pleased her.

She changed position so that she knelt at his side and, placing her hands on his thighs, dipped her head back to his cock. She pushed out her tongue, flattened and extended beyond her bottom lip, and took him in. Letting him fill her mouth completely; the tip pressed lightly against the back of her throat.

She adjusted the angle, took a deep breath and eased him deeper. Pausing for a moment, she focused on becoming accustomed to the sensation, and then, with a slight swallow, went a little further. An involuntary shuddering animal sound, a cross between a gargle and a groan, escaped her throat. The reaction was mental as much as a it was physical; the extraordinary frisson of pressing up against the boundary, and then taking a step a beyond it, made her heart pound.

Saliva dripped from her lips in long thin strings, but she ignored it.

 _"See?"_ she thought, _"I can be messy too."_

The thought was amusing and she had to force herself not to laugh; that would not go well right now.

She felt John’s hand twist into her hair. She wouldn’t normally allow it—not with anyone else—but she trusted him implicitly not to push. He knew how important it was to let her set the pace and her own limit.

She knew her limit. Knew just how far she could go. When she reached it her lips were pressed against the base of his cock; nose buried in the soft flesh of his scrotum. He kept absolutely still apart from a gentle rhythmic press of his fingers against her scalp that felt so good. Through her hands, pressed to his thighs, she could feel pent up tension radiating from his flesh. She pulled in her tongue a little, reducing the already restricted space in her mouth and began to make small swallowing motions; using them to massage the shaft buried in her throat. She took care to stay calm—it was so easy to get over-excited—and breathed slowly through her nose, for as long as she was able, letting only soft humming moans escape her; knowing that the vibrations would help drive him crazy.

Her fingers crept behind his cock to cup him gently. Soft hairs brushed against the palm of her hand as she gently kneaded the velvety flesh and her skillful fingers probed at the smooth tight skin of his perineum. She concentrated as she massaged and felt for the signs that he was coming close to release; having done this enough that she knew _his_ limit and just how far he could be pushed.

It wasn’t long before she began to feel the tightening under her fingers and a pulsing in her mouth; his fingers twisted tighter into her hair. She had air enough to hold on and let the pulse build just a little before pulling back, sliding his cock all the way from her mouth, and she pressed a thumb and forefinger against the glans until the throbbing subsided. She softly ran her tongue along his shaft, enjoying the taste of his firm hot flesh, and took him in again as deeply and as slowly as the first time.

How many times had he pushed her to her limit with his mouth before heartlessly, ruthlessly, pulling away? It was only fair to repay the favour.

He was shaking under her hands and the sounds he made were indecipherable; they could have been human words or simply desperate babbling cries. She suppressed a smile as she pulled back again; thwarting the release of that cresting pressure and listened to his outpouring of pleasure and frustration. She allowed him to fall from her lips and turned to look at him with a vicious grin.

“You're cruel,” he breathed.

“I know.”

Clambering up, she sat astride him. Her thighs were slick and sticky and she felt him hot and wet pressed against her. She rocked back and forth a few times, enjoying the tantalising sensation of his hard flesh rubbing against her sensitive lips. She reached down, grasped him in a firm hand and guided him inside her.

Her eyes flickered shut and her head rolled forward; hair cascaded over her shoulders and brushed against his chest. She relished feeling of him filling her and the spontaneous clinch of her muscles drawing him inside. She leaned forward and splayed her hands on his chest as she began to move with slow deep rolls and lifts of her pelvis. She concentrated on the sensations as his hips snaked up to meet her and she felt his hands on her hips; firm and strong. His fingers pressed into her flesh. John's hands traced a line up her body and brushed across her nipples; he pressed them between his fingers, pinching lightly. Aeryn gasped and a wide, lazy smile spread across her lips.

She opened her eyes. John was watching her face intently; his stare bore deep into her and under that gaze she was more than just naked, but exposed and helpless. It was overwhelming and terrifying. How was it that mere eyes could make her feel like that?

Aeryn drew away. Rolled back her head and closed her eyes; attempting to lose herself in the experience. She took herself to a place where there was no thought, no emotion and no complication.

There was only sensation.

His hips canting up to meet hers; hot and thick between her thighs. _And warmth began to spread through her belly._ His chest under her splayed fingers; taut and firm under its downy covering. _And her muscles began to shake with insupportable strain._ His fingers on her nipples; gently teasing sending shivers through her whole body. _And jagged electricity began to spike through her limbs._ His cock inside her; gratifyingly deep and hard. _And the pressure in her clit, clear and sharp as glass began to spill out into her whole body._ His eyes, fixed on her, piercing like a white hot knife. _And the orgasm ripped through her like a whip._

Her whole body tensed, clenched up taut and tight like a bow string, and then snapped violently. She cried out, a deep wild-animal noise, and collapsed onto John’s chest as her body rolled and surged with ecstasy. She buried her face in his chest and muffled her cries against his skin until the engulfing fire subsided. She felt dizzy and dazed; overwhelmed and close to tears. This couldn’t be right.

He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off him, pressing hard kisses again her lips and his fingers raked into her hair.

“I want to fuck you,” He said, his voice ragged edged and wracked with lust.

“Do it,“ she whispered back.

She allowed him to turn her around and push her on to her hands and knees. He gathered her hair into a bunch and twisted it around his hand, pulling her head back, firm but not rough. She felt his cock press against her sensitive lips and he pushed inside; hard and deep. Her shaking arms buckled at the force of the thrust, but the pull on her hair held her up and she tipped her head, arched her back and allowed herself to be frelled.

She pressed her legs together, so that his thrusts came tight and deep, and buried herself in the sharp, harsh sensations. This was not the gentle touch and lazy coupling of earlier. It was just sex. It was recreation. This was right. It was as if he had finally figured out what he wanted from her and how to take it. She loved that. Revelled in it. Blissed out on the knowledge that he was finding pleasure in the use of her body.

A hard thrust, too deep, made her scream out and she heard a string of cries from his lips as he finished inside her. She didn’t know the words, but that didn't matter; she understood them.

He let go of her hair and she sank onto her forearms. She had no idea he could frell like that. 

Aeryn lay down, loose limbed and light-headed, and curled up on her side close to the edge of the bed. She pressed her eyes closed and rode out juddering twitching aftershocks. John collapsed next to her babbling incomprehensible human nonsense through gasping breaths.

They lay still for a long time. Their breath calmed. Bodies relaxed. They lay in silence and semi-darkness. Not touching. Aeryn kept her eyes closed and tried not to think.

Three words bubbled up behind her lips, but she pressed them together; not quite ready to say them yet. She wanted to stretch out this moment just a little longer.

John shifted beside her. He pressed his body against her back and snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her in to him. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled.

The touch broke the seal on her lips.

“I should go,” she said and pushed his arm away.

She sat up and, ignoring the ache in the pit of her belly, began to dress.


End file.
